


FebuWhump2021 Day 2: "I can't take this anymore"

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Series: FebuWhump2021 [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: FebuWhump2021, Gallifrey, Gen, Guilt, Mentioned Master (Doctor Who), POV TARDIS, Pain, References to Depression, Sentient TARDIS, Suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29083221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: Following the discovery that Gallifrey has fallen once again, The Doctor draws into herself on the TARDIS. The ship takes it upon itself to bring her back out.
Relationships: The Doctor & The Doctor's TARDIS, Thirteenth Doctor & The Doctor's TARDIS
Series: FebuWhump2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156145
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	FebuWhump2021 Day 2: "I can't take this anymore"

The TARDIS hummed. The lights shifted from a cold, brooding blue to a warmer gold as the ship attempted to cheer up its pilot. It wasn’t subtle but its dear thief was being so stubborn, so annoyingly oblivious that it had little other choice. However, despite the ship’s best attempts, The Doctor remained sat perfectly still on the middle step, staring off into nothingness.

It wasn’t that it didn’t understand. Of course it did. The TARDIS was highly attuned to The Doctor’s state of mind, her thoughts and feelings. In fact, it was probably more aware of them than the Time Lord herself. How could it not when be The Doctor was on the verge of breaking with every single breath she took?

Maybe the darkness could be tuned out. Yes. Switch off the telepathic circuits for a few millennia and allow The Doctor to work through her pain on her own. The engines rumbled, mechanical parts scraping over each other with desperate groans, as the TARDIS considered that plan. Upon consideration, it was definitely not the wisest of ideas. If anyone could run away from the guilt and sorrow that caged their aching hearts for a thousand years it was her thief. No. Direct action had to be taken.

However, after a hundred failed attempts to draw The Doctor from her near paralytic state the TARDIS took desperate action. The dial, a trojan horse from the best enemy, forgotten at the base of the stairs, burst to life. His image appeared in a bright blue flash, all angles and strange clothes, watching, waiting for her to react.

Only, she didn’t. She continued to stare into the emptiness, lost to its vastness.

In the depths of its infinite being, The TARDIS registered fluctuations in multiple core systems’ performance. It was as if all of space was folding in on itself, rearranging to something new, un-programmed. It felt small. Contained. No. Worse than that. _Trapped._ Spatial regulators pushed back against the collapse but this… _feeling_ was persistent.

The ship had no true sense of unpleasantness but this certainly matched all of the symptoms and signifiers in its system. Peak performance could not be maintained without a functioning pilot. All scans – physical and mental – suggested that The Doctor was about as far from ‘functioning’ as possible.

The blue hologram stepped forward and the TARDIS reached for its pilot. The pixelated image faltered, photons dispersing as it brushed through her shoulder. She remained unaffected until the voice of her best enemy drew The Doctor from her misery.

“Thief,” it said. “You are…”

The Doctor hissed, her face contorted into something grotesque. She leapt back, scrambling up the stairs to put distance between them. “Stay away from me.”

“Dear thief,” it said again softly. “Don’t run.”

Her brain was so sluggish, overcome by emotion and weighed down by misplaced guilt and fear, but The Doctor finally reached the correct realisation after a long 2.376 seconds. Tears filled her eyes as she whispered, “Is that you, old girl?”

The image flickered, lips twitching up into a smile. The Doctor did not reciprocate. “The time locks around Gallifrey prevent frequent updates to the database. The desolation was unknown.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is not yours, either.”

Now she smiled. But not the good sort. Not the kind she wore around the humans, around the young and pretty explorers that followed in her shining wake. Not the kind that burst onto her face with the brilliance of a triple supernova, flooded with enthusiasm and energy and life. This was the sort she wore when her friends said “goodbye”.

“You could not have saved Gallifrey from this. The weapon used against the planet was unstoppable.”

The Doctor shook her head, cheeks flushed with anger. “I could have tried! I’ve done it before!” That spark, the fight, the _life_ , drained from her. “Every time I think I save them… And this time it wasn’t even the daleks. It was _him._ ”

She turned away from the hologram, tears leaking from her eyes. The hologram reached out to touch her but once again the image passed straight through her. Eyes wide, The Doctor looked up and asked, in the way one might ask a silent star the meaning of existence, “How could he do this to them? To me? After everything we’ve been through?”

The TARDIS searched its entire database. Literature from thousands of civilisations. Complete histories of planets long gone and those yet to be. Meticulous records of The Doctor’s travels, notes on her companions, allies and enemies. The conclusion was simple: “He was in pain.”

“And I’m not?” she exclaimed, although it lacked any ferocity. She simply sounded tired. It was paradoxical that a person who flittered breezily through space and time without ever looking back carried such weight in their soul. “I can’t take this any more. I can’t keep caring. My hearts can’t take it.”

“Time Lord hearts are robust.”

“Not these ones. Not any more.” The Doctor grew silent once more, nothing else to say.

However, the ship wouldn’t give up so easily. The hologram faded and the Time Lord had nothing for company save the ever turning engines until, suddenly, the console burst to life. Dials spun, lights flashed and, in the end, all it took was a well timed custard cream to bring the pilot back to the controls.

On the display, the co-ordinates of Earth appeared and The Doctor softened. Prediction proved correct – that nothing could cheer the Time Lord like her humans – the dematerialisation lever slammed itself down and the pair hurtled through space and time together. This was the way it was meant to be; The Doctor exasperatedly jumping around the console to correct purposefully wrong systems, a lightness in her eyes.

It wouldn’t solve the problem but at least The Doctor would realise she wasn’t alone. And when the humans inevitably left, as they always did, the TARDIS would still be there for its thief as it had always been.


End file.
